


They Say

by Grannahreadsenochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dead Castiel, Dean-Centric, Death, Depressed Dean, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Five Stages of Grief, Hurt Sam Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Sad, Sad Dean, Sam tries to help, Suicide, Torture, farewell letters, potential series, supernatural oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grannahreadsenochian/pseuds/Grannahreadsenochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes through the five stages of grief after Castiel dies</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say

**Author's Note:**

> So this is still kind of a work in progess. I might expand it and make it a few chapters or just leave it as is.
> 
> Also this deals with suicide and depression, so if you are triggered by that do not read this.

    They say that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Dean had gone through his denial as he held Cas’ limp body in his arms. He willed for the breath to come back in Cas’ lungs, for his blue eyes to stop looking up at him blankly, for the blood on his face and chest to disappear, for him to give Dean his beautiful confused face. The one he gave him when humanity puzzled him. God, Dean loved that look. He would do anything to see that face again. He walked around the bunker expecting for Cas to appear behind him. Cas couldn’t be dead, it wasn't possible, he needed him. Every night Dean would lie in bed and he would pray to Cas, longing for an answer from his angel.

    “Hey, Cas, I miss you, man. You know, I don’t believe that you’re dead, you wouldn’t die because you know we need you, Sam and me. Just please come back,” Dean prayed.

* * *

 

    Weeks passed since the angel died and Dean’s denial turned to anger. He was angry at Cas for going on that suicide mission, he was angry that he died. He was angry at Sam for not letting him look for him. The anger stayed with him, whenever he went out on a hunt he grew reckless and almost got himself killed. Sam no longer let him come on hunts. Dean paced the floor of his room. He didn’t like not having anything to do. He should’ve been angry at Sam for not letting him go on hunts, he should be fighting back, but he was tired. All this anger all the time constantly burning through him, blaming everyone for Cas’ death. He just wanted him back.  
With that wish came the next stage: bargaining. He tried to convince Sam that he was fine now. Finally Sam relented, not because he believed him, but he thought that getting Dean outside of the bunker away from the memories of Cas would be good for him. It wasn’t. Now Dean would steal out of whatever crappy motel they were sleeping in, to summon demons and try to make deals. He summoned angels and tortured them, hoping, praying that they would give Cas back to him. He even pleaded to the God he didn’t believe in. Nothing worked, he had no leads. Cas couldn’t come back.  
Then the depression hit. Dean never left his room, he didn’t sleep, he just existed. Sam tried to make him get up and do something, but Dean stared at the wall day after day. His lack of appetite created shadows on his pale skin. He replayed Cas’ death over and over again in his mind.

    Dean clutched him tightly and tried to wipe away the blood from his wounds. Cas was in bad shape, he didn’t know if he’d make it. That thought made Dean panic, he needed Cas to live. He applied pressure to his wounds, attempting to stop the bleeding and Cas cried out.  
    “Stop it, Dean,” he said weakly, “I can’t fix myself and neither can you.”  
    “Cas, don’t say that,” Dean cried bitterly.  
    “It’s okay,” Cas said weakly.  
    Dean couldn’t respond, he was choking back sobs.  
    “Dean,” Cas mumbled, “letter-in my coat.”  
    He was fading fast.  
    “Read it,” he said, “and I’m glad I chose you- and Sam.”  
    “Me too, Cas.”  
    The angel smiled briefly and then coughed up more blood. He gave Dean a little nod and then grew limp in his arms.

* * *

 

    Dean decided to get out of bed. A most unusual occurrence since Cas had died. It had been a year and still the pain was fresh. He clutched Cas’ coat in his hands and cringed at the thought of the unopened letter in the pocket. He had never been able to bring himself to open it. A year had passed since Cas has died. It had taken Dean a year to rack up the courage to open the letter from Cas. He sat down on his bed heavily and gazed at envelope. His eyes were red rimmed and his vision was blurry, but he could still make out his name on the front. The handwriting was sloppy, like it had been written in haste, but it was clearly Cas’ handwriting. Dean carefully ripped it open, his hands shook. His vision blurred and as he started to read.

 _Dear Dean,_  
_I am writing this letter because I have heard it is what humans do when they confess love. So I that is why I am doing this, because, Dean, I-_

    Dean stopped reading. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. He closed his eyes and started again.

 _Dear Dean,_  
_I am writing thi-_

    Dean stopped again, “Dammit,” he thought. Panic rose in his chest. He began again.

_Dear De-_

    “No! Fuck!,” he cried.  
    He put the letter down and rose from the bed. He paced the room with his hands on his head. Tears sprung to his eyes. He leaned heavily against the wall. He felt his throat constrict, like the last bit of light was being squeezed from his body. He sobbed for the first time in the year since Cas’ death and he hadn’t cried since he felt the angel’s pulse weaken and finally stop. It had been a year since Castiel had died in his arms and Dean Winchester hadn’t cried. The wait was over now though, Dean’s hit the wall and the tears fell freely from his eyes. He curled his hand into a fist as he punched the wall, again and again until he cried out in a mix of pain and frustration. His knuckles were bloody and he cradled his throbbing hand.  
    Sam entered the room, “Dean,” he said in surprise. He took a moment and saw Cas’ letter on the bed. His voice was filled with pain, “Dean, what’s wrong?”  
    “I forgot it, Sammy,” Dean said, “I forgot it.”  
    “Dean, what did you forget?” Sam asked worriedly. He crouched down and protectively put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.  
    “His voice,” Dean cried as he fell into Sam’s arms, “I can’t hear his voice. I’ll never hear it again. Cas died for me and I can’t even remember his voice, Sammy.”  
    Sam was crying now too, “It’s okay, Dean,” he comforted.  
    “No! It will never be okay Sam, I miss him so much. I wake up and I go through the motions, but I don’t feel anything. I can’t go on pretending that everything’s okay, because it’s not...I’m not. It’s all I can do to not break down every time I’m reminded that I’ll never see him again. I need him, I need Cas, Sammy, I love him,” Dean held his head in his hands.  
    “I never told him,” he whispered. His whole body shook with sobs. Sam held his brother close until his sobs subsided.  
    “It’ll be okay, Dean,” Sam said gently, “I know that you’ll never forget him, and I know Cas knew that you loved him, Dean. Everything will be okay”  
    Dean stared blankly at the floor.

* * *

 

    Sam was wrong. Everything was not okay. Dean knew it would never be okay. He reached the final stage: acceptance. Cas was gone, he wasn’t coming back. On a Thursday afternoon in May, Dean sat down on his bed with a blank page he’d ripped from his father’s journal and wrote to Sam.

    Death was in the bunker only a few minutes later, he offered Dean his hand. Dean grasped his hand and nodded. He was gone.

    Sam came home from a hunt that night.  
    “Dean,” he called.

    There was no answer

    Sam was worried, “Dean,” he called again, his voice louder. He was filled with dread as he approached Dean’s room. He pushed the door open and the sight of Dean’s lifeless body on the bed greeted him. A gun lay limp in Dean’s hand and his pillow was drenched in blood. No words could fully describe the crushing pain Sam felt in his chest. He fell to his knees and clutched his head in his hands. Sam felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t fair, everyone he had ever held dear was gone; Jess, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Kevin, Cas, and now….Dean was too. He stumbled over to the bed and clutched Dean’s lifeless body. He had no words. Sam heard the crinkle of paper and noticed Dean’s note in the pocket of his leather jacket. The paper was worn and wrinkled but the writing was new. He unfolded it carefully and wiped tears from his eyes.

 _Dear Sam,_  
_I’m so sorry man, I just can’t do it anymore. Ever since Cas died I’ve been a burden and there is nothing left for me to do on Earth. I’m just poisoning you. It’s better for me to be gone and give you a chance to get out. You can do it Sammy, you be the one to get out and stay out for good. Go get a nice house and have the wonderful family I know you want. Just be happy, Sam, I need you to be happy._

    Sam paused to wipe the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

 _Take care of Baby. Don’t let her rust up and go to junk. She’s a good car and she’s served us well. I won’t hold it against you if you sell her though, just make sure she gets taken care of. As for Charlie, tell her that I love her, Sam. She’ll always be the little sister I never wished for, but I wouldn’t have lasted this long without her._  
_As for you, Sammy, I don’t know what to say. We always said that there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you, but I think that maybe there can be. Not hunters, but your happy family with the white picket fence and the whole nine yards. I’m giving you a chance, Sam, take it. Get out and stay out. Don’t bring me back. It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it. The sacrifice would be too much and I’m not going to let you do that. Let me rest, give me a hunter’s funeral. Let this be goodbye. I love you, Sammy._  
_-Dean_  
    Sam crumpled up the letter and threw it across the room with a sob. Tears poured from his eyes as he rocked back on the floor. His world fell apart.

* * *

 

    Sam Winchester carried his brother’s lifeless body out of the bunker. The stack of wood looked menacing at the top of the hill. He carefully laid Dean on top. Something fell out of Dean’s pocket. He bent down to see what had fallen. It was a crudely carved version of the amulet that he had given Dean so many years ago. He choked back a sob and carefully placed it in Dean’s hand. The sharp smell of the lighter fluid stung his eyes as he poured it on the pyre. He sprinkled salt and then lit a match.

    “Jerk”

    He tossed the match and everything went up in flames. Sam stayed until the fire burned out. He sat alone in the woods staring blankly at the smouldering ashes. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
    “Sam, what’s this?” a familiar gravelly voice asked.

**Author's Note:**

> If I expand this I could continue this and maybe bring Dean back or at least have Cas and Sam look for him. Let me know what you think.


End file.
